


In the Devil's Territory

by partyclowns



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Bisexuality, Canon Rewrite, Confusion, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Non-Graphic Violence, Nothing explicit, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rough Kissing, Someone Help Will Graham, Suicidal Thoughts, Unresolved Romantic Tension, hannibal is in control
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-10
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:08:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27495463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/partyclowns/pseuds/partyclowns
Summary: Will Graham has either lost himself, or he has found who he really is, all thanks to Hannibal.
Relationships: Alana Bloom/Will Graham, Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 2
Kudos: 27





	1. To See You

Will had been broken, destroyed, and perhaps it was his own fault. Maybe he deserved it for letting his guard down and getting attached to the job and to _him_. Now he sat in his home with a throbbing headache and only the comfort of his many, many dogs. 

He hadn’t had a connection with anyone in so long. Too long. The only person that even came close was Alana Bloom, and even she had abandoned him. The ultimate betrayal was when his closest companion had led him into Dr. Chilton’s hold and insanity. The loneliness was one thing, but the turning everyone he knew and cared for against him made it unbearable. The frustration led to anger, which led to even an attempt on his companion’s life. He felt guilty, he felt anger, he felt he had lost everything. He had lost himself and it was all thanks to Dr. fucking Lecter.

 _“I don't feel like myself. I feel like I've been gradually becoming different for a while. I just feel like somebody else.”_ he admitted in a session with Hannibal and that made it hurt worse. He had confessed his deepest secrets to him, secrets he could barely admit to himself, he expressed his fears and became so vulnerable under his care. Perhaps that’s what made him an easy target. 

The only time he ever felt comfort had been during those sessions. The cold, yet caring stare of those blue eyes on him as he bore himself as fragile and unstable. He felt too many things and carried the weight of the world on his shoulders. He felt the pain of the Ripper’s victims-- Hannibal’s victims. Not his. Will was _not_ the Ripper, though the manipulation had worked so well he almost believed it. But the others did. They were too far gone, lost to Hannibal’s charms. Will couldn’t even blame them, as much as he wanted to. As angry as he was, he could not hate him. The only hate he felt was for himself, for his “gift”, and for the ugliness of their reality.

There would never be a hatred for Hannibal. There couldn’t be. He admired him, he looked up to him, he wished he _was_ him. It was turning into a sick obsession, something Will couldn’t even look himself in the mirror for. The only thing he cared for--really cared for--was Hannibal and his well being, but the thought of admitting that to Hannibal himself made him nauseous. He wanted Hannibal to feel his wrath, and he knew the man would know the truth underneath the disguise. He always knew how to read Will, and this was no exception. 

The memories flooded him, they haunted him and taunted him. Garrett Jacob Hobbs, Abigail, every word ever uttered between himself and Hannibal. He could feel them fuel his nightmares and even his hallucinations. Every moment since Jack Crawford called upon him for help had become fuel for the worst part of him, and at first he blamed Crawford. But it wasn’t his fault. He had finally accepted that it was his own. He was no longer good, if he ever was good. He couldn’t even define that word anymore. Innocence no longer existed, neither did evil and guilt. 

And through all of this, the only person he longed for was Hannibal.

He was the only one who listened without judging. That was his profession, but it would have been hypocritical to judge either way. He listened, just listened. He never uttered a word until he knew it was wanted or necessary. Everyone else offered unwanted advice and judgement that made Will alienate himself further. He couldn’t bear to hear Jack get angry at him again, or Alana’s trembling voice telling him he was too unstable for her. All he wanted was Hannibal's understanding and kindness and his care. Even if it was false, it felt true enough for Will.

The subject of that night’s nightmare was Hannibal, only this time the term “nightmare” is used loosely. It was more of an eye-opener that made Will’s empathetic side go crazy. It led to another spiral of confusion:

_He stood in the sunlight, his back to Will as he stared out of the window of his office. He was beautiful. Will carefully walked towards him, his hand reaching out to touch him, and just as Hannibal turned, it became dark._

_The antlers were visible now and he stood face to face with the Stag Man he had been so afraid of for so long. Now he touched it, he felt little fear now, and he kissed it. It did not react, it was silently threatening. And Will met its gaze just before it crumbled into little pieces._

The kiss lingered on Will’s lips long after he woke up: after he had his shower and his morning coffee, and after he fed his dogs and made a futile attempt at having a normal day. He wondered to himself how it would feel to kiss Hannibal, to allow himself to become a victim to him again. He imagined it would be freeing now that he had begun to accept things for what they were. Will Graham was no longer a simple professor with an empathy disorder; he was a criminal profiler who may or may not have sociopathic tendencies and an illness that is destroying his mind quickly. He had been through trial, put into a hospital for the Criminally Insane and traumatized. Traumatized by a man he might be in love with. 

Was this love? 

That was another word he had lost. It’s definition had been warped for longer than he could even remember now. The last time he had even heard the words ‘I love you’ uttered with meaning was as a child, from his parents. After that those words were meaningless and the feeling fabricated by his past lovers. He no longer had any desire to hear the words until he knew they were true. Actions do speak louder than words, and Hannibal’s actions were screaming at him: _I love you, everything I’ve done since we met has been for you. You are mine and you always will be._ He was afraid of that thought. The thought that he belonged to Hannibal the cannibal, the thought that he loved the Chesapeake Ripper and the Chesapeake Ripper loved him back in his own twisted way.

He needed to see him. He needed to feel Hannibal’s gaze on him and to be put under that damn spell again. He needed to confess everything, no matter what the result may be. If he were to die he wouldn’t be angry, and if Hannibal confessed right back to him he would allow for him to take him, to own him. Hell, he practically already did. Now he just wanted it to be official. He wanted to kiss the Chesapeake Ripper. He wanted to love the Chesapeake Ripper. He needed it to be Will raham again. To be the real Will Graham


	2. To Beat You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will caves and calls Hannibal, and realizes how much control the other man truly has over him.

The urge to pick up the phone and dial his number became painful and much harder to ignore. At every waking moment the idea lingered on Will’s mind, but he ignored it as best as he could, and damn it, he was proud of himself. He was vulnerable, even more vulnerable after leaving the hospital, but he did not give in to his urges. He, instead, indulged in his fantasies.

To live in domestic bliss with Hannibal and their surrogate daughter, Abigail, was his ultimate dream. His favorite fantasy of them all, really. Taking her fishing and coming home, being greeted by Hannibal with a hug and a kiss, and having him cook the fish they caught for dinner. If they all weren’t so traumatized and well, murderous, they would make a lovely family.  _ In another life,  _ Will thought—no, he hoped. He hoped to die by Hannibal’s hands and he by no means was a spiritual man, but by God he prayed for reincarnation. For all three of them to be reborn and somehow find each other again and turn that family fantasy into reality.

The urges became harder for Will to fight against and soon he found the phone in his hand. He dialed Hannibal’s number and listened to it ring. His stomach was twisting and turning, he mumbled a prayer that he wouldn’t pick up, but deep down he knew he wanted to hear the Doctor’s voice again, and he would: “Doctor Lecter.” 

“Hannibal,” he said breathlessly, in a dream-like state. He couldn’t believe he’d done it. “It’s Will.”

“I know it is,” was his reply. “I’ve been waiting for your call. What took you so long?”

“Fear, anger, hatred…”

“You do not hate me, and you do not fear me.”

“I fear what you may do to me—what you have already done to me, and I sure as hell wish I could hate you.”

“But you don’t.” he was a cocky son-of-a-bitch, but he had every right to be. He knew of the control he had over Will. He knew he had everyone wrapped around his fingers.

“I needed to hear your voice again. To know that you’re still alive, that you still exist.”

“I am here, Will. I am here for you.”

“For me,” he repeated under his breath, closing his eyes. “Can I see you?”

“That depends, dear boy. Will you try to harm me?”

“Not as long as you don’t try to harm me.”

“Then we will have dinner together tomorrow night. I have things to do, otherwise we’d see each other sooner. I want to see you as much as you want to see me.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“I do not lie when it is unnecessary,” he clicked his tongue. “Goodbye, Will.”

“Goodbye, Doctor Lecter.”

Will immediately began to regret his decision. He had expressed vulnerability to him again.  _ Again,  _ he was becoming a slave to Hannibal Lecter, but really had he ever stopped? Surely Hannibal would take advantage of this, or maybe he wouldn’t. Maybe, just maybe, they would talk. Talk about everything that happened, maybe Hannibal could come clean about everything, and maybe Will would confess his feelings. He was sure the psychiatrist already knew, he had to, but he needed to say it out loud and he needed to know if there was something in the doctor that meant it could be reciprocated. A kiss, a touch, a look, a single word—Will was desperate. He would take anything.

He was anxious, pacing around his home with his dogs just staring at him curiously. He hated to worry them, but he couldn’t stop.  _ What would Jack think? What would Alana think? Seeing Hannibal after everything that’s happened? I’m an idiot.  _ He pounded his forehead with his fist, then slumped back into his chair. “Fuck!” he yelled as loud as he could and began to sob. Really fucking sob with his whole body trembling. Winston came over to comfort him, nudging his hand with his nose just to let him know he was there for him. 

How had Will Graham, the professor, the FBI profiler with a special gift of empathy , become such a victim? He’d fallen from grace in the worst of ways and at the hands of a psychiatrist of all people. How had he fallen in love with said psychiatrist? A man! But somehow that wasn’t the worst of his problems. He knew he was bisexual at a young age, and had buried those feelings a long time ago, but to be weak for and used by a man?  _ Fuck, fuck fuck. _

He couldn’t keep this fight going if it continued to be this painful, but he knew he had to. In the end, he would die, whether by Hannibal’s hands (which he hoped for) or by God’s he would be gone. He could only dream of beating Hannibal, but if he did he knew he couldn’t live life without him. He would fall apart, wind up milling himself probably, and that was okay with him. His dogs would be fine with Alana and Jack could find someone else, maybe not with his sake abilities, but they could work. He would be dead, Hannibal would be dead with him, and Abigail would be there. They could be rebirthed and find each other again. It was his fantasy all over again: his only comfort in this life.

After a few moments of sobbing and trying to catch his breath he gathered himself and decided to go to bed. Not because he was tired, but because he knew when he woke up there would only be a few more hours left until he saw Hannibal again.

Hannibal, his love.

Hannibal, his destroyer.


	3. To See You At Last

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> dinner with hannibal causes will to lose himself again

Entering Hannibal’s home felt right despite everything that had transpired. He was greeted with a smile and a tap on the lower back and externally, nothing had really changed, at least nothing that would cause problems. Internally, however, Will fought himself. He struggled to hold himself back. He wanted to press Hannibal against a wall and press their lips together almost as much as he wanted to cut his throat like an animal.

Will had fought for so long to catch the Chesapeake Ripper, risked (and lost) his sanity, and had everything stripped from him only to be having dinner with the man himself.  _ Dinner—was it vegetarian? Of course it wasn’t. _ He could only wonder now who he had the privilege of dining on: “Don’t look so worried, Will. It’s no one that will be missed.” Hannibal handed Will his plate, his eyes lighting up with his attempt at soothing the younger man.

“I shouldn’t be here.”

“You wanted this, Will. You came under your own volition.” he reminded him as he cut into his meat. 

“I know.” he caved and began to cut into his own, trying to imagine a cow; at least that was better than imagining a human squirming under Hannibal’s grasp and— _ fuck _ .

As much as he hated to admit it, it was delicious and he did tell Hannibal that. The reaction was a smile, not even a smirk for once. He took the dishes away and offered dessert which Will declined. “Can we just talk?”

“Talk about what, dear boy?” and just like that Will was under his hold again. He felt his cheeks burning again and he balled his fists, trying to fight himself. It got harder when he felt the hazel eyes of the doctor on him, burning into him. “You mustn’t be so tense. I am not going to hurt you and you aren’t going to hurt me.”

“Why should I believe that?” he couldn’t fight back a scoff. “And how do you know that I won’t?”

“Because I have forgiven you and you have forgiven me. You wouldn’t have called otherwise.” he took a sip of his wine. The younger man let his shoulders relax in return having decided that making a miserable attempt at lying wouldn’t be worth it. He could see right through him. “Why don’t we talk in my study? It’s much more comfortable.”

Will sat on the sofa, head hanging low between his knees as he held his glass of wine. Hannibal turned on a record and sat down in a chair across from the younger (though he pulled it much closer than necessary, much like he had done during their sessions). He recognized this body language; the younger had finally let go of the tension, at least for that moment, and he couldn’t let this go to waste. He ran his fingers through the chocolate curls for a moment before finally yanking at them and causing Will to jump and meet his gaze. Neither of them spoke, instead Hannibal moved closer and pressed his lips against the brunet’s.

Will did not kiss back, not until Hannibal tugged at his hair again and bit his lip. He was not afraid to use force, especially because he knew Will wanted this too. He was a stubborn boy, and tried too hard to fight the temptation, so hard it made him come off as a prude. Will Graham was no prude, not with the way he was kissing. The kiss was sloppy, much too sloppy for Hannibal’s liking, but he let it slide because at least he was getting something from the agent. He took the liberty of offering tongue as well, something that was welcomed without hesitation.

“Hannibal, we’re supposed to be talking.” Will mumbled as they took a momentary break. He was panting, and God, how pretty he looked with his lips kiss-swollen and cheeks tinted pink. 

“What would you like to talk about, Will?” 

“What you did, why you did it.”

“You know why I did it. You are a clever boy and now iis not the time to play dumb.” Hannibal had complete control over the situation and he was going to get Will to say what he wanted to hear. 

“Let me guess: you wanted to see what would happen.”

“That is a simple way to put it, yes.” he stroked Will’s cheek. “You’re fragile, Will, and I wanted to push the limits. I wanted to see how I can play with your abilities and turn you into something more.”

“And now you’ve ruined me.” Will replied, though he had to admit it was very melodramatic of him. 

“I haven’t ruined you. I found you, Will, I found you.” 

_ But at what cost? _

They were both painfully aware of themselves and each other, how they could not be apart without risking pain and damn near insanity, but being with each other was too intoxicating. Will got overwhelmed, he truly was fragile, and Hannibal struggled to keep his urges at bay. He wanted to touch him, to feel his body against his, but he knew he couldn’t do more until Will had truly surrendered himself to the truth, to himself.

The night was successful on Hannibal’s part, but that wasn’t a surprise. He had Will Graham wrapped around his finger, even as their relationship fell apart and struggled to be pieced back together. He would always have control, even when he let Will think he didn’t. He gave the brunet the upperhand, practically offered himself on a silver platter, let Will slam him into a wall and kiss him, and still, with a simple look he would have the man on his knees and begging. 

Will did not stay the night, nor did he offer anything else other than kisses, and for a moment he was proud of himself for that. He hadn’t given in to his desires or to Hannibal’s dark seduction, but as the drive went on his heart began to sink and a migraine began to blind him. 

_ No amount of control he had was more than what Hannibal had. _

_ He was Hannibal’s and it was too late. _

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first attempt at Hannigram and i am very nervous about it!! please be gentle


End file.
